


She'll be Apples

by Armengard



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Australia, Chlodine - Freeform, Chlodine Week 2019, F/F, Feels, Post-Game(s), Semi-established relationship, Uncharted: The Lost Legacy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-07-19 06:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19969189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Armengard/pseuds/Armengard
Summary: Nadine Ross meets Chloe Frazer's mother, Mrs. Frazer.(too bad she can't understand a word she's saying)





	She'll be Apples

“Aw’ll b’stufft,” said the woman in the doorway of the rugged little tin-roofed farmhouse, holding the battered screen door open with one hand. Her feet, Nadine couldn’t help but notice, were conspicuously bare and smudged red with dirt, as if she had been walking about the dry, sun-baked yard without shoes or socks and hadn’t bothered to wipe them clean before going back inside the house. “Chloe, thet yoo?”

Chloe smiled and flicked her sunglasses up on top of her head. She spun the keys to their rental jeep on her finger and then put them in her pocket but kept her phone at hand, as always. “Surprise, mum.”

“‘Oly dooley,” said Chloe’s mother, and stepped out onto the raised, though somewhat sagging wrap-around porch with them. If Nadine had to guess her age, she’d predict anywhere between sixty and seventy, though she seemed rather spry; bright, and energetic. She was several inches shorter than Chloe and plumper, her faintly wrinkled skin a warm shade of light brown—though, Nadine guessed, earned more from the relentlessly-beating Australian sun than genes. She was dotted with swaths of freckles along her neck, arms and legs, left bare by a worn-looking sleeveless blouse and a creased pair of khaki shorts that had seen better days but looked terribly comfortable. Chunky stone jewelry hung on loose cords around her throat. Her dark brown hair was braided loosely down her back, strands escaping at her temples and dangling in her face. She had Chloe’s eyes and crooked smile. “Y’lid’l rippah! Dinnev’n telyer mum yerrin Oz, eh! ‘Ope y’dinnav t’come frem becka Bourke fer a lobbin. Howzit, girlie? Donkey’s yeers since y’vis’ted. Givussa pash, now.”

They hugged, and Chloe gave her mother a dutiful kiss on the cheek. 

“Found the time between jobs,” said Chloe. “Had business in the city, selling some things from our last, er, expedition.” Her eyes cut sideways to Nadine, then back to her mother, not about to elaborate on that. Nadine understood. Too much guns and running, that last one. Not something a mother needed to know about. “Finished up early. Thought, why not pop over and give mum a visit, hey?”

“Bonzer! Stayin’ fer tea? Kin mekkup y’room, y’wan’ stay th’ noight. ‘Ave brekkie, takoff’n thuh arvo?”

Chloe laughed. “Maybe. Do miss your bacon and eggs.”

Standing there awkwardly throughout the exchange, Nadine tried her best not to stare. Her brain was struggling to make sense of some of the words tumbling from Chloe’s mother’s mouth—her Australian accent was incredibly thick and fast, syllables cutting and folding sharply into one another. It was almost as if she were speaking another language. Communication had never been an issue for Nadine before—she spoke Afrikaans, English, some Zulu and Xhosa, and even conversational French. 

This, however, was something else entirely.

Chloe, at least, had given her a bit of a warning about what to expect on the way here. _Look_ , she’d said, driving casually on the single stretch of desolate road that cut across the red, rocky, flat-landed Australian outback, one arm dangling out the open window, sunglasses propped on her nose and ponytail fluttering in the breeze, _when I say my mum’s Australian, what I really mean is, she’s bloody_ Australian. _Y’know, the whole laid-back, bush-living, free-spirit Aussie. It’s—it’s a little much at first, for some people. So just—be prepared, I guess._

 _Think I can handle it,_ Nadine had replied, not one to be cowed so easily. 

But, as she had now come to find out, Chloe warning her about her mother was one thing. Actually meeting her was another. 

Idly, Nadine waved at a fly that had been buzzing around her head since exiting their jeep, and realized that Chloe’s mother had stopped chatting with her daughter and was giving Nadine a piercing, narrow-eyed look. At her side, Chloe appeared somewhat sympathetic, though obviously amused.

“Whossis, then, givin’ us th’ ol’ Ozzie salute?” said the older woman, her pointed expression gradually softening into a pleasant enough smile of greeting that somehow—to Nadine—still felt slightly intimidating. “Fiddaza Mallee Bull, luks loike. This yer Shiela, Chloe?”

Confused, Nadine blurted, “I’m not Sheila. I’m Nadine.”

Chloe and her mother both burst out laughing, leaving Nadine more baffled than ever. It was difficult not to feel stupid, just then. Had she misunderstood?

Chloe put a hand on her arm, took it away quickly. In a low voice, she said, “Sorry. Sheila’s just what they call women ‘round here. Men are blokes or fellas, get it?” _Not really_ , Nadine wanted to reply, but simply shrugged. Chloe turned again to her mother. “And Mum,” she said, her tone turning theatrically patient, with an underlying edge of annoyance. “We’ve been over this. Nadine’s my partner. My _work_ partner.”

“Roigh’, mate. Jes’ ribbin’ ya.” Chloe’s mother put out a hand to shake, surprising Nadine. Her own mother would have taken any excuse to hug a good friend of Nadine’s no matter how little she knew of them. Still, Nadine had never been much of a hugger, and she appreciated this small show of professionalism, and extended her own hand and shook briskly. The palm is hers was warm and dry, grip firm.

“Nadine Ross. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Frazer.”

“Psh,” the other woman replied. She squeezed Nadine’s hand once, then released, and gave her own wave to the stray flies buzzing around her head. “Naim’s ‘Lizbeth, bet fren’s cawl m’ Lizzerd, er Bits.”

Nadine balked inwardly. She was definitely _not_ going to refer to her partner’s mother as either of those… imaginative nicknames. Elizabeth frowned, as if sensing this, and chuckled. It sounded so much like Chloe Nadine nearly did a double-take.

“Foine,” she said. “Elizer, then.”

Darting a cautious look at Chloe, who was watching the exchange fondly, Nadine cleared her throat and said, “...Ja?”

“Roight-o,” said Eliza, herding them toward the door she’d stepped from only a few minutes ago. “Commin, commin, mek yersels addome. Geddon, ‘fer Aw bern th’chow. Ace timin’, gerls.”

Chloe paused at the screen door to untie and toe her boots off, motioning for Nadine to do the same. Once they were both in their socks, they stepped into the dimly lit house after Eliza, screen door slapping shut behind them.

Inside, the air was surprisingly cool compared to the blazing Australian heat outdoors. Fairy lights hung askew along the walls, crowded with photos and decorative hangings. The air smelled musty, like incense or sage. On several windowsills were little polished stones, the purpose of which Nadine could only guess. On the coffee- and side-tables were well-worn books on subjects Nadine had only heard of in passing—things like auras and reiki and chakras. In one corner was several rolled up yoga mats and foam blocks. A wailing bhajan played distantly from an old stereo. The overall effect was both strange yet homey.

"Got bikkies ef yer hengry,” Eliza said, leading them through the cozy living room toward the kitchen. “Billie’s full, fer cuppa. Kin mekka sanger ef y’wun. Food shuddin’ b'too lon’ cookin’. Bluey, we got comp’ny! Look smaht, boy-o!”

An Australian Cattle Dog with a silvered muzzle and scraggled fur wagged his tail lethargically from his dog-bed. The wagging came a little faster when Chloe approached. 

"Hey, Bluey,” Chloe said softly, and knelt to pet him. The dog gave a happy-sounding groan but didn’t get up, his tail thumping against the floor in a loud, steady rhythm. Nadine wanted to pet him, too, but the look he gave her seemed wary, so she decided to respect his space and simply stood and waited for Chloe to finish, reluctant to wander off without her.

"Can’t believe he’s still around,” Chloe mused, scratching the old dog behind the ears. Bluey closed his eyes and groaned again. “I used to play with him all the time when I was, ah, younger.”

"Right,” said Nadine quietly, so Eliza wouldn’t hear. “And how old are you again? Pretty sure this same breed holds the record for world's oldest dog.”

Chloe stood, grinning, and elbowed her in the ribs in retaliation, though Nadine barely felt it. “Smartarse.” Her eyes flickered quickly across Nadine’s closed-off face, and her own expression turned thoughtful. “All good?”

“Ja.” Sure, it was a little odd being here, in the house of her partner’s mother, but it wasn’t anything Nadine Ross, former head of Shoreline and now half-owner of a semi-prosperous acquisitions business couldn’t handle. 

“Good," said Chloe. "Don’t worry ‘bout mum. She’s always like that. Bit of a feral, her.” Nadine stared, waiting for an explanation, and soon enough Chloe grimaced and said, “Sorry, I meant… like, y’know. A free spirit. A hippie. Feral’s the, uh, Strine word for it.”

Before today, Nadine had not even known Strine existed. She had always thought the language here in Australian was just English with an accent, but now she could see it was much more. Not even the word “slang” could precisely define it. “Maybe you can teach me some, on the way back.”

“Deal.” Chloe took the six-pack of beer Nadine had been holding since they’d left the jeep and headed for the kitchen. They really had arrived just in time, it seemed, as Eliza was working busily over a full stove of sizzling pans. Whatever she was making smelled marvelous.

“Godda lam’ roast gowin,” Eliza announced over her shoulder. 

“Chloe’s favorite,” Nadine said. Eliza looked surprised, as if she hadn’t expected Nadine to know that. The slight guardedness in her eyes seemed to thaw. She gave Nadine a short grin. 

“Shoriz, mate. Roight nexta Vegemoite on toast, eh?”

Nadine laughed, though really she wanted to cringe at the thought. She had tried Vegemite only once, and that had been enough for her.

“Brought you some drinks, mum,” said Chloe, ignoring them, and put the beer in the fridge after taking a bottle out for each of them. Nadine put hers on the table and left it there, though Chloe and her mother immediately opened theirs. Chloe took a swig while Eliza frowned dubiously at the label.

“Wuzzis? Y’no Aw only drink Four X.”

“It’s good, mum,” said Chloe. “Just try it.”

Eliza shrugged. “Whoi not? Aw’ll givver ah burl.” She noticed Nadine’s untouched bottle and jerked her chin at her. “Whut, noddon th’ piss?” 

Despite herself, Nadine made a face. Chloe coughed into her drink faintly.

“She means,” she said after swallowing and wiping her mouth on her wrist, “are you drinking?”

“Oh.” Nadine had initially preferred to remain as sober as possible during the entirety of this visit to avoid making an utter fool of herself, but she seemed to be doing a horrible job so far. Perhaps she _should_ start drinking. “Maybe later.”

“Kint hold y' likker?” Eliza joked. She sipped her bottle, seemed to like it, and took another swallow. “Chloe ‘ere, she’za two-pot screamah. Offer face in lessen'nowah. Ha! Not loike er mum, thet’s fer shor.”

“Mum,” Chloe chided. 

“N’deen,” Eliza said suddenly, putting her drink down to tend to the stove—Nadine noticed then, that Eliza said her name like Chloe did, not _NAY-deen_ but _Nuh-DEEN_ —“doosa fiver n' gow’inna gardin owt beck n’ pick us sammore rowsmerry n’ toime, eh?”

Not one to argue, and eager to give Chloe some time alone with her mother, Nadine nodded, and walked to where Eliza had pointed at the screened in backdoor. She stepped out onto the porch and paused there, looking down at her socked feet, and then at the red, hard-baked Australian ground, only three steps down.

So, that was how Eliza’s feet got so dirty. It did seem easier for Nadine to just walk across the dirt in her socks, pick what she needed, and then go back inside. Her own mother would have given her an earful for that, messing up someone's house. Refusing to come off as rude, Nadine walked to the front of the wrap-around porch where she’d left her shoes, put them on, and then returned to the backyard. 

Eliza’s garden had no form to it, no order. Everything grew everywhere, but at least everything grew well, even in dirt so dry and hard. The plants were full, green, and healthy, obviously well-tended, though some of the surrounding weeds were bigger than the plants themselves. She found the herbs easily enough and plucked a modest handful of each, then spent a few minutes simply admiring the rest of the plants and pulling a few stray weeds here or there.

She heard the screen door slap and looked up. Bluey was standing on the back porch watching her, his tail wagging slowly. Nadine waited to see if he’d join her in the garden. When he didn’t, she realized it was probably because of the stairs. Bad hips were common in dogs his age. She finished up and returned to the porch. When she came close Bluey wagged a bit harder and snuffled at her offered hand. She pet him carefully between the ears and laughed quietly when he sneezed on her, probably because of the rosemary. At the backdoor, she re-toed her shoes off and held the door open for the old dog as he followed her inside.

"Bin eetin’ awlroigh’?” she heard Eliza ask Chloe as she reentered the kitchen. Eliza took the herbs from her with a muttered, “Thassa beaut, 'anks deerie” before refocusing on the meal, tending to her stove with what seemed only a fraction of her attention; yet that fraction seemed more than adequate to produce an ever thickening wonderful aroma that made Nadine's stomach growl ferociously. Thankfully, no one heard it. “Yer skinny,” Eliza went on to her daughter. “Prolly ain't sleepin’ ‘nuff neether. Aw tellya—”

“Mum!” Chloe protested sharply, exasperated. Her voice was loud in the little kitchen. “Please. Enough with the bloody third degree, I’m thirty-nine, not nine.”

Nadine gave a stifled grunt. In the long months of their working together, Chloe had never seen fit to mention her age. In fact, she’d always seemed to avoid revealing the actual number, to the point of them making a running joke out of it. Chloe scowled at her slip-up, visibly annoyed. Nadine schooled herself back to nonchalance and, when Eliza wasn’t looking, got another elbow in her ribs from her partner for her trouble.

“Oh, din spit th’dummy,” sniffed Eliza, already turned back to their cooking meal, unbothered. “Jes feelin’ plucky’zall.”

Chloe rolled her eyes and similarly relaxed, the tension bleeding from the air in moments. A knee-jerk reaction if Nadine had ever seen one, Chloe snapping like that at her mother. She could imagine the rows they’d had when Chloe was younger, as a rowdy, headstrong child and then a rebellious teenager.

But Chloe had changed since then, and proved it, muttering now, “Sorry, mum. I shouldn’t’ve shouted.”

“No wuckas,” said Eliza. Nadine tried to imagine what that might mean, and failed. Eliza turned a pan off, adjusted the temperature of another burner, and wiped her hands on her shirt without care. “Aces. Chow’ll b’dun soon.” She stiffened, as if suddenly realizing something, and then fixed Nadine with a contemplative look. “Y’veggo?”

Nadine did not know at all how to answer that. She glanced at Chloe.

“No, mum,” Chloe answered for her, finishing her beer and tossing the bottle into a nearby bin, “she eats meat. Just no shellfish or pork. She’s Jewish.”

Eliza nodded and set briskly back to work. After a moment, she motioned with her head at the kitchen doorway. “Tek a squizz ‘round th’owse, Chlo. Know yer rarin’ ta.”

Chloe, who had been tapping her foot on the floor in a way Nadine recognized as mounting restlessness, sat up. “What? No, it’s fine, mum.”

“Gowan!” Eliza urged.

Still, Chloe hesitated. “Feel bad, makin’ you do all the work. We can help, y’know. Nadine’s a good cook. Or we can, I dunno, empty the dishwasher or something.”

“Bluddy theng’s cactus,” Eliza replied. “Carked idda few week’zago.”

“Oh.” Chloe’s face fell. “Shoulda told me. I could… get you a new one?”

Eliza scoffed, though not cruelly, as if she knew Chloe was simply looking for a way to please her, however mundane. While she wasn’t living in squalor, Eliza’s accommodations were… in a polite word, quaint. Or, rustic. And, apparently, that was the way Eliza preferred it. “Lookit yoo,” she said, teasing warmly in a familiar tone Nadine heard practically every day from Chloe herself, either over the phone or in person. “Miss show pony.” She laughed kindly, and the distressed look in Chloe’s eyes faded. “No drama. Aw’ll doowim latah. Peessa piss.”

“We can—” Chloe tried.

But Eliza had clearly had enough. She shook a spoon at them playfully. “Rackawf, th’ both a’ ya!”

Chloe sighed, stood. Nadine looked at her expectantly. “C’mon, china. I’ll show you ‘round.”

—

The bedroom Nadine found toward the back of the house was small and neat, which made it clear it had been some time since Chloe had actually been in it. A well-slept in twin bed was squashed into one corner with blankets tucked smartly at the sides, a small wooden desk crammed into the other. The rest of the space was taken up by dozens of handworn books, the majority stuffed onto the room’s one narrow shelf. Nadine could read the spines of notable history texts, as well as books on anthropology, mythology, and maps. The desk was similarly bursting with notebooks and papers, drawers sagging visibly from the weight. It was comforting, Nadine thought, to imagine how a much younger Chloe had sat there once and started on the path to becoming what she was today.

"Hey.”

Nadine jumped. She hadn’t been nosing through anything, just standing there in the doorway, and yet it almost felt like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Privacy was something she always tried to respect, especially when it came to her partner. But when she turned, Chloe’s smile was soft, and she nodded at her encouragingly.

“Go on, then.”

They stepped inside together. Nadine looked around tentatively, very much aware Chloe was watching her. A few minutes later, at Chloe’s direction, she took a seat on the bed, mattress creaking under her, hands clasped in her lap.

Chloe sat next to her and bent double to grope under the bed. “Now, let’s see if we can find any embarrassing pictures of myself, shall we?” She pulled out an old shoebox and opened it. Inside were several small photo albums. She handed one to Nadine and flipped through a second herself.

Nadine opened hers and was immediately charmed. Infant Chloe gazed back at her curiously from a swaddle of red cloth, a much-younger-looking Eliza holding her close—she looked spectacularly like Chloe did now, only with lighter hair and skin. As Nadine flipped through the pages, Chloe aged rapidly. She saw Chloe’s first bath, first steps. She stopped on a photo of toddler Chloe with a nest of unruly black hair and a dirt-covered pair of overalls. Beside her was a tall, dark Indian man with kind eyes and a brilliant smile. It looked like he and Chloe were digging together in the dirt, as if on expedition.

“That your dad?” she asked, voice low. Chloe looked over and smiled sadly.

“Sure is. Christ, Mum hated that beard on him. Me, I loved it. He used to grab me and tickle me with it ‘til I got sick from laughing or mum yammered for us to stop.”

Nadine, whose own emotionally-distant father had never in her life done such a silly thing, simply nodded. “You look happy.”

She turned more pages, and the apparent happiness of the earlier photos began to leach away. Soon an older Chloe was no longer smiling. Her young face was harder. Less open than before. There was an edge to her mouth now, a determination that Nadine knew was still there to that day. Clearly, these pictures had been taken after Chloe’s father had disappeared, and then been discovered dead. Hard to imagine how she had dealt with it, Nadine thought.

Album finished, she handed it back to Chloe. “Thanks,” she said. “For showing me.”

“Hmm.” Chloe put the album back into the box and kicked it under the bed again. For a moment, they simply sat there on the bed together, taking it all in—this small world where Chloe Frazer grew up. Chloe sighed, and Nadine felt her lean against her shoulder, and wondered if maybe she should put her arm around her; probably, she was thinking of her father, and growing melancholy and sad. After another heavy moment, she did just that. Chloe made a soft sound and leaned against her a bit more.

“So, what d’you think of mum?” Chloe asked, sounding curious.

"I’m not sure what she’s speaking is English,” Nadine admitted, and felt happy when Chloe laughed loudly and put her hand on Nadine’s knee.

“I warned you.” 

“You did.” She glanced down, and then away. Chloe was grinning up at her, that way she always did. “I like her, though,” she went on. “Seems tough. Reminds me of another woman I know.”

“Really, now.” Chloe bit her lip, tilted her head up further. “Give us a pash, won’t you?” she asked, thickening her husky accent into a proper Australian twang.

Nadine felt a warm surge, as she always did when Chloe asked for a kiss. It was still so new, this thing between them. She darted a glance at the door, only mildly worried that Eliza might walk in that moment, and then leaned down and kissed Chloe. She meant for it to be short, quick and chaste, but Chloe, of course, had other ideas, and sank her fingers into Nadine's tightly-done ponytail and held her in place until they were flushed and breathless.

“That was nice,” Chloe said brightly, popping to her feet, wiping the corner of her mouth with a flick of her thumb. “Come on. Let’s see how Mum’s doing.”

Dazedly, Nadine followed, hoping it wasn’t terribly obvious what they’d been up to.

They were nearly in the kitchen when Eliza, through a rattling clamor of dishes and pans clanging together as she sorted through them, shouted suddenly over the racket, “Chloe, geddoff yer bluddy date n’kem set thuh table, won’ya?”

At the word, _date_ , Nadine felt a burst of panic, and then a surge of incredulous outrage. She stopped in her tracks and whipped around to Chloe. Before she could stop herself and just as the racket in the kitchen dropped into silence, she said loudly, words cracking into the open air like gunshots, “You told your mother we’re dating? I thought we weren’t telling anyone!” 

At first, nothing happened. Then in the kitchen came a surprised grunt, and something fell with a resounding crash into the sink. Nadine snapped her mouth shut, realizing her mistake, a cold pang of dread piercing her stomach. _Date_ clearly didn’t mean what she’d thought it meant. Goddammit.

At her side, Chloe had a hand pressed to her face, eyes closed, lips thinned. “ _Shit_ ,” she hissed.

Out of the kitchen burst Eliza, face slack with shock. A moment later it went red with umbrage. “Y’bluddy liar!” she said to Chloe. “Aw shed givya ah gobful!”

“Sorry—” Nadine tried, but Chloe was focused on her mother now, apology gone unheard. 

“Mum, listen, only reason we didn’t tell you is ‘cause we’re trying not to make a big deal about it—”

Eliza scoffed. “Oh, sa y’din evin tellyer deer ol’ mum ‘bouddit, eh?”

“‘Course not, mum,” Chloe burst out, “cuz you’d blab it to everyone who’d listen!”

"Pig’s arse! Aw wuddin!”

“You’re shouting about it right now!”

They both fell silent. Nadine felt terrible. What she’d said, she hadn’t meant to just blurt it out like that. And after Chloe had specifically asked her not to say anything on the ride over here, because things between them were still so shaky and young. And now she’d gone and ruined it. _Eish_.

“Din wanna havva blue widya,” Eliza mumbled at last. “Not moy bizzie, whut y’get up ta.”

“I would’ve told you, mum,” Chloe replied with a long-suffering sigh. “Eventually.”

“Roigh’, well,” Eliza huffed, glanced behind her. Tapped her foot. Then whirled and stomped back into the kitchen. “Food’s dun,” she called after her. “Bog in.”

—

Dinner was, in a word, awkward. Sitting at the kitchen table, Chloe to her left, Eliza to her right, Nadine was hyperaware of any motion she made towards Chloe and Chloe towards her, and that Eliza was watching them the entire time with an irritated look on her face. Nobody seemed to want to speak, and so they ate in silence. The food, at least, was delicious. Nadine powered through her sudden lack of appetite and ate everything on her plate, while Chloe and Eliza continued to pick at their own food, darting suspicious glances at one another. 

Nadine excused herself not long after that, needing a moment alone and thinking, perhaps, that mother and daughter should have a talk in private. Chloe reached out and touched her wrist as she walked by, and Nadine felt slightly better after that.

The back porch was quiet. Bluey looked up at her from where he'd curled by the steps and wagged his tail as she stepped out. Nadine approached and sat beside him, content with petting the old dog for a while in silence.

Something like a quarter of an hour went by. Twenty minutes. Twenty-five. The knot remained in Nadine’s stomach. It wasn’t often she felt foolish, or particularly off-balance, but today seemed as though it had been one big misunderstanding after another. She hoped Chloe and Eliza could come to some sort of understanding, that—

The screen to the backdoor slapped open and then shut, and Nadine jumped, unsure of the last time she had been taken by surprise. She looked over her shoulder, expecting Chloe. Instead, it was Eliza, looking pensive. Quickly, Nadine tried to stand, but Eliza put a hand on her shoulder and directed her back down, then sat beside her on the steps. Bluey huffed at them and put his grizzled head on Eliza’s lap, and together, the three of them sat and looked out at the wide red stretch of Australian landscape laid out before them.

“So, N’deen,” Eliza said, after a drawn out moment. “Since m’daughtah win’ tell me. How lon’ y’two bin togethah?”

Nadine gave a cautious glance over her shoulder at the screen door, imagining Chloe just inside, scowling at the two of them. “I—” She stopped, feeling hesitant, then decided not to be. Sat up straighter. Set her shoulders. “Not long,” she said. “Only a few weeks, really.” She paused, then said, “Hope that isn’t a problem, her dating a woman,” only because, for several of her old girlfriend’s parents, it had been.

"Pah,” said Eliza, and spat artfully to the side. “Aw’m no knockah. Chloe’s neveh bin shoi ‘bout who sh’ loikes, anniways, Bruces er Sheilas.” She seemed thoughtful for a moment. “Y’loike doodles, too, er jes wimmin?”

An exasperated laugh burst out of Nadine’s mouth. This woman was something else. “Just women.”

“Huh,” said Eliza, as if she found this puzzling. She shrugged, and pet Bluey, the old dog blinking up at the older woman adoringly. “Betya—ya loike Chloe plenny, roight?”

“I do,” said Nadine, and hoped, this time, that Chloe would hear her. “Very much.”

“Huh,” Eliza said again. Her eyes went distant and glassy. Gruffly, she said, “Et’s dangruss, whut y’two do. Aw kno’ thet. Kin ‘elp bet worry. Chloe wuz woild assa kid. Ha! Stillis. Kin’ stopper. Nevah cud.” She shook her head. Her face was serious and hard. She turned and looked right at Nadine with all seriousness. “Lissun. Aw los’ m’husbind t’ thet loife n’ Aw’ll b’dammed ef Aw lose Chlo too, unnersten? So Aw din care whut’s whut—ef yer a wommin, or ef y' used ta be er enimmy. Ol Aw ask fer izya keep en eye onner, ace? Ya do thet, n’ she’ll be apples.” 

Nadine didn’t know what apples had to do her or Chloe, or with anything really, but nodded. “Ja. I will.”

"Prummis?”

“Promise.”

Satisfied, Eliza gave Bluey another pat. “Well. Nex’ toime yerrin Straya, wul go owtw’a boozah, ‘ava propa coldie. Moy showt, yeah?”

Not quite knowing what she was agreeing to, Nadine said, “Sure.”

Behind them, the screen door squeaked open.

“Everything good out here?” asked Chloe. Eliza seemed to take that as her cue, and stood with a light groan, waving off Nadine’s motion to help.

“Letz givvema spotta proivacy, Bluey, lessgo.” Groaning like she had, the dog stood and followed Eliza to the door. To Chloe, Eliza announced in a loud voice, “Aw loik'er.” Nadine flushed. “Fair dinkum, she iz. Ah reel corker. Gudonya, Chlo.”

“Gee,” said Chloe, deadpan. “Thanks, mum.”

Eliza laughed and went inside with Bluey. Chloe joined Nadine on the steps and wiggled her socked feet next to hers, as if trying to cheer her up. Nadine smiled.

“Sorry,” she said again, still unsure if Chloe had heard her the first time. “For—back there.” 

“It’s fine, china,” said Chloe. “Got the hard part over with, really. I’ll pay you back when we visit your mum someday.”

Nadine _hmmed_. “What _is_ a date in Strine, anyways?”

Chloe gave a soft cackle. “It’s your bum. Any other pressing questions?”

“No—well. Your mother said something about apples, I think, before.”

Chloe’s brow puckered in confusion. “Apples?” A light dawned. “Oh.” She laughed sweetly. This time, it didn’t make Nadine feel stupid at all, just warm and happy. “That’s—that’s just another saying here. _She’ll be apples_. Means, it’ll be alright.”

“Ah.” Nadine paused. An odd saying, sure, but unique. “Will it?”

“What d’you mean?”

Nadine shrugged. She couldn’t help but worry that one day she might falter in their newly-forming relationship, or make a mistake like she had today, only worse, and Chloe would realize she was better off without her, and leave. “Just—everything. Us.”

Chloe smiled, as if she were very pleased there was an “us” to be talking about at all. Nadine sure was.

“Whatever happens between the two of us,” Chloe said carefully, “I’m guessing we can handle it.” She slid her hand into Nadine’s and squeezed. “Plenty of apples, don’t you think?”

Sitting there, heavy with good food and Chloe at her side, watching the sun bleach red across the Australian horizon, Nadine could believe it. She smiled.

“Ja. Plenty.”

**Author's Note:**

> chlodine week day 1: misunderstandings
> 
> apologies to any actual australians who had to read this I'm dumb and gay


End file.
